Mmm, Blood
by Daimeera
Summary: The misadventures of one Sean Cameron.
1. Prologue

They were having a right good time when she got a little too enthusiastic. One nip into his throat and it was all over. 


	2. Linus vs God

So the site finally lets me sign in again! A few words of explanation--I am horribly, horribly blocked when it comes to writing. I have one thousand miserable, boring, stinking words of a new chapter for TUTBMP, but I'm stuck. So I was talking to the lovely Evablue (she rocks my socks--check out her stories) and she joked about writing a fic where Sean is bitten by a bat. Do the math. The best way to break writer's block? Utterly demolish it.

* * *

Sean set out the next night with little idea of what he was doing. He considered his options and then decided it was best to visit the house of a certain Christian named Linus. He'd never been fond of the guy, so why not? It wasn't like he had any better ideas.

He checked the phone book and finally managed to locate Linus' address. He contemplated taking a taxi, but walking would keep him in shape, wouldn't it? And certainly he wasn't willing to compromise his body for the sake of convenience.

He realised later that he couldn't have picked a worse target--but apparently the myths about crosses and turning to dust were all false anyway, so it didn't really matter. Still, it was the first in a long line of potentially career-threatening mistakes. But whatever.

His first challenge was to actually get inside the house. He carefully observed it for a moment, then noticed the ever-so-convenient trellis running up alongside a bedroom window.

"Hmm," he said. "I think that might work." Then he realised he was talking to himself and he promptly shut his mouth. Getting locked up in a psych ward probably wouldn't be particularly conducive to his plans.

He tried to shove his foot into one of the spaces in the lattice, but his sneaker was too fat. He sighed and kicked his shoes off. This wasn't going very well.

With his feet now in socks only, he managed to take three steps up the trellis. Just as he remembered that he was deathly afraid of heights, he went crashing to the ground. Half-rotten wood has a hard time supporting 200 pounds of muscle.

"God!" he screamed. This was getting more than a little bit frustrating. Unfortunately, God declined to answer.

He soon discovered that not only was he left without a way into the house, but he also had a chunk of wood stuck to his foot. He swore a few times, then re-considered his plan of attack. Of course! He could ring the doorbell!

So he did. Three times.

He was rather impatient by the time Linus answered--sporting boxers and a pair of fluffy slippers. "What do you want?" he whined. "It's almost ten o'clock. I was asleep."

"I vahnt to suck your blood!"

Linus could only laugh. But at least it made him substantially less cranky--for about two seconds. "No, seriously, what do you want?"

Sean was hurt. Why was Linus insisting upon being mean? He supposed it didn't matter, but damnit, he had feelings too. His jaw quivered and his eyes filled with tears. Ever since he'd been bitten, his emotions had been running wild.

But it had its uses. Linus sighed and opened the door, leaving just enough space for Sean to squeeze through. "Come in," he said reluctantly.

Sean needed no further invitation. He stepped inside, offering a polite nod as he entered.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Linus asked, stiffling a yawn.

"Well, um, I seem to have gotten part of your trellis stuck on my foot," Sean said. "I, uh... I'm not quite sure how it happened."

Linus raised an eyebrow. "Okay, then."

"So are you going to do something about it, or are you just going to stand there and stare?"

"Uh, sure," Linus managed. Sean nodded in self-satisfaction as Linus headed off toward who-knows-where to find some bandages, presumably.

He returned a moment later, a bottle of anti-septic in his hand.

"Oh no way!" Sean protested. But Linus set about caring for the scrapes and scratches anyway, after carefully extracting Sean's foot from amongst the splintered wood.

Linus was kneeling in front of him, and Sean no longer had any impulse control. "You have a really nice neck," he commented.

Linus looked up at him, his eyes wide. "Are you--are you hitting on me? Back demon! I don't bat for the other team!"

"What? No!" Sean protested. "I wasn't! I'm not gay, I'm a vampire!"

"Oh thank god." His eyes widened even more. "NO! I just took the Lord's name in vain! Oh my god!" And with that, he spontaneously combusted.

"Damn," Sean said. "There goes dinner."


	3. Darkwing Duck

Paige would make a good next target, Sean decided. Ellie had never been particularly fond of the cheerleader, and Sean felt like atoning for whatever sins he may have committed. Besides, he was getting pretty hungry, and her house was nearby.

He pretended to get lost, just in case anyone was following him--after all, he wasn't supposed to know where Paige lived. He'd clearly never been there, not to TP her house, and certainly not for a random makeout session back in the seventh grade. But eventually he found it, brand new convertible and all.

He got briefly distracted with the lovely car, and he allowed himself a moment to daydream about all the mods he would have liked to make. But as nice as cars were, they didn't make him any more satiated, so he forced his mind back to the present.

He considered re-trying the trellis, as there was one on her house, but he quickly decided against it. He may have failed a few classes, but he wasn't a total idiot. He also considered the doorbell, but that was much less entertaining. So, reverting back to his days as a pollywog in Wasaga Beach, he grabbed a rock and tossed it at the front window. But Sean had the luck of the English (or the French? or anyone who wasn't Irish, anyway) and it bounced back and hit him square in the forehead. So much for that. There weren't any larger rocks in close vicinity, so it was back to the doorbell.

Much to his dismay, however, the doorbell was broken. Poor Sean was reduced to pounding on the door, and ever since he'd gotten together with Ellie, he'd been using lotion on his hands. It made them softer, and therefore it made him much more likely to get lucky. Unfortunately, it also made slamming his fists against a metal door rather painful. He gritted his teeth and did it anyway.

"Come in!" The call was faint and it came from upstairs, but it was definitely Paige's voice. He tried the doorknob, and sure enough, the door was unlocked. "Well poo," he muttered under his breath.

He skipped up the stairs, his stomach rumbling, although he was slightly turned off by all the pink. It was everywhere. On the walls, on... well, the walls. But it seemed like it was everywhere, and isn't that what counts?

"Howdy!" he said, when he reached Paige's room.

"Sean?" She wrinkled her nose. "Hold on, okay? I'm on the phone with Hazel." She shoved some clothes off her chair, providing a shaky perch for Sean, then rolled over on her bed, turning her back to him.

"Um, sure," he said. "Why not." He took the opportunity to examine his nails and realised just how much dirt had gotten under them. He reached toward Paige's manicure equipment.

"Hazel? Sorry about that. What? Oh, yeah. Sean's here." She rolled her eyes pointedly in Sean's direction, and then caught sight of what he was plotting to do. "Oh don't even!" Paige started. "Huh? No, Hazel, not you. Look, I have to go." She hung up, already pouting, and turned her glare toward Sean. If he hadn't already been dead, that would have clinched it. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be with your vampire girlfriend?"

"She's not a vampire!" he said quickly.

"Whatever. Get on with it. What'd you want, advice on a birthday gift or something? Because I am so not the person."

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" he proclaimed. "I am the... uh... bubblegum! that... sucks your blood!"

"You're Darkwing Duck?" she said dubiously.

Silly Sean. The poor guy hadn't even realised he was plagiarising--he'd actually thought that he'd come up with something brilliant and original.

"D'oh!" he exclaimed. "I mean, shut up."

"And blood-sucking bubblegum? Okay, hun, next time you want to plagiarise? At least do it right."

"Why did you have your door unlocked anyway?" he asked. "Do you know how unsafe that is? Anyone could have just walked in!"

She rolled her eyes. "Clearly."

He stuck out his tongue at her and she returned the gesture. "I mean, you could have been robbed!" he continued. "Or killed! Although, speaking of which, we really should get down to business."

Paige flicked her head around and as usual, her hair fell perfectly into place. She'd clearly been a cat in a previous life--perfect hair, and a god complex. "What business?" she asked.

"I'm a vampire," he explained. "And I'm here to have a snack. And get revenge on Ellie's behalf."

"Okay, what have you been smoking? I mean, pot is fun, but it's not that good!"

"But when I bite you, I get to decide whether or not you die," he explained, ignoring her cruelty as best as he could. "I could kill you, or I could only sort of kill you, and you could join my little posse."

"Join your... posse? Eww. I mean, have you taken a look in the mirror lately? You clothes are hopelessly outdated, and you're looking way too pale. I'd rather die than risk looking like that."

So she did! 


	4. The Bees' Knees

**The Bees' Knees**

The next day, the classes were positively buzzing. Not because the students had found out about Paige, however (that happens soon), but rather because the janitor had disturbed a beehive right in between the only two classrooms in the school.

Right after Marco ran screaming from the classroom (he'd repeatedly pinched himself before discovering that it wasn't just a dream), Mr. Raditch's face lit up the morning announcements.

"I have grave news to report," he said. "As you might have noticed, one of your classmates is missing. I'm sorry to inform you that Marco Del Rossi will not be returning to class due to his severe bee phobia. We're drawing up a collection to send gifts of condolence to his family--please contribute what you can. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, Paige Michalchuk is dead. The police think it was a vampire. Again, my condolences and sincerest prayers for the family of Marco Del Rossi."

As the television went dark, all eyes focused on Ellie. In fact, the students in the next room stared at the wall, in an attempt to see through it.

"What?" she protested. "I didn't go near the bees!"

"I think they're referring to the news about the vampire," Ms. Kwan said gently.

"Oh," Ellie said. She wrinkled her brow and a look of understanding slowly overtook her. "Wait, you all think that I'm the vampire? No way!"

"Well you have to admit that you do look kind of suspicious," the teacher said.

"But..." Ellie protested, then realised it was futile. "Well I'm not." Then she burst into tears and ran out of the room.

"I think Sean's the vampire," Hazel said. "I was talking to Paige last night and she said that Sean had shown up at her house." But no one listened to her because, well, when has anyone ever paid attention to Hazel?

"It's definitely Ellie," Craig said, and the other students nodded their agreement.

"Definitely," Ms. Kwan confirmed.

--

Sean Cameron was still hungry--starving, in fact. He'd gotten his teeth into Paige, certainly, but her blood was so bitter that he'd hardly been able to stand it. He'd drunk only enough to sustain him, and now he was once again on the prowl.

He didn't feel like breaking and entering because that wasn't turning out very well for him. So he wandered the streets until he finally came upon a group of people.

And there was Manny, comforting Spinner who was apparently heartbroken over Paige's demise--or at least heartbroken enough to allow Manny to hang onto him as he stole peeks down her shirt.

Ah, Manny. She would be a good target. He could almost bet her blood would be sugary sweet. And she was oh so hot... Her jugular was juicy and large and throbbing and pulsing, seemingly taunting him with its majesty, and it was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing her right then and there. But he needed to be subtle, or his identity might be discovered, and although he couldn't think of why that would be bad, he was sure there was a reason.

Poor Sean.

See, it turns out that Darcy and Spinner were still dating. And it turns out that Darcy happened to walk down the street at that very moment. And it turns out that right when she caught sight of Spinner was the same moment Manny gave him a comforting peck on the lips.

"I kill you, bitch!" Darcy screeched. She rushed toward Manny, who merely began to giggle uncontrollably.

"You're kidding, right?" Manny asked. "I mean, what are you going to do? Stab me?"

And so Darcy did, with her freshly manicured nails. She leapt into the air, matrix-style, and Manny so didn't stand a chance. And then she stabbed Spinner for his infidelity while she was at it.

"You hurt baby Jesus," Spinner said sadly, as he bled out onto the sidewalk.

"Noooooooooo!" Darcy screamed, and then she slit her own throat--but not because of what Spinner said. She'd broken a nail when she stabbed him, and she couldn't live with that kind of pain.

But with her dying breath, Manny yelled, "My clothes! Do you know how much these cost? Do you know how hard it is to get blood stains out of pastel pink?" And then she finished complaining and died.

"Well it's about time she shut up," Sean said. "But I'm still hungry."


	5. The Song That Never Ends

**The Song That Never Ends**

Sean was sick of being led on, so his next victim would have to be someone who wouldn't let him down. It would have to be someone who owed him, who was loyal... who was he kidding? Craig's house was nearby, and he was feeling lazy.

He found Craig in his garage, as usual, strumming on his guitar, as usual. What he hadn't counted on was Ashley curled up on the couch, but hey, two meals were better than one, right?

"Hello," he said politely, after barging in through the side door.

"Oh, hey," Craig said. He didn't look up. Ashley, Sean noticed, was trying to casually cover over some rather large red splotches on her neck. All the easier to break her skin, he supposed, although he could have done without Craig slober.

"So did you hear about Paige?" Sean asked off-handedly.

"Oh, the vampire thing? Don't worry, I'm keeping my eyes out for Ellie."

"But I'm the vampire!" Sean protested. "Me. Me. Me, I tell you! ME!"

"Man, she got you too? That sucks."

Sean sighed. Why was he surrounded by such discriminatory dumb bums? Why did they assume that goth vampire? Life in Toronto was hard.

"I'm here to suck your blood. And maybe Ashley's, too."

"Oh no," Ashley said, rolling her eyes. "Poor, poor me."

"Well that seems fair," Craig conceded. "But, seeing as we're friends and all, can I have one final request, before I die?"

Sean's stomach grumbled, but he couldn't resist Craig's puppy dog eyes. "What do you want?" he asked wearily.

"I'd like to sing one last song to Ashley, the love of my life."

"That seems reasonable," Sean said. "Go ahead."

So Craig did.

"_Oh Ashley, bo-Bashley,  
I lurvve youuuuu  
You're the thing that keeps me  
From inhaling glueee  
I'm so emo  
I tried to kill myself  
Just because I stubbed my toeeee  
But then fifty of Degrassi's hottest girls  
Surrounded me  
And we had hot sex  
Because I'm a super stud  
Oh yeah, Ashley  
I lurvve you..._"

And that was only the first verse. He continued on and on and on and even when Sean covered his ears, he didn't stop.

"Screw this," Sean said. "I'll find my meal elsewhere."

"Take me with you!" Ashley begged. "Save me!"

But Sean was already gone. He certainly had no intention of waiting around for even another minute.

As he started down the street, he heard a loud bang, and to his relief, the Horrible, Horrible Sining stopped. And then he heard Ashley's voice, coated in insanity.

"Haha, who's singing now? Not you! Haha! Except... oh no... this damn song is stuck in my head!"

And then there was another bang, but Sean didn't much care because Ashley was right--the song was stuck in his head, too. Unfortunately, he didn't have a gun.

"I'm still hungry," he pouted. "But I guess I'd better break the news to the Kerwins."

He was just outside the house when he heard another desperate scream.

"Oh noes! What will I do now? Life is teh meaningless!" And then there was another bang--man, there were a lot of guns in Toronto.

Sean sighed and eyed Toby's bedroom window, then closing his eyes, made a flying leap. Of course, with his eyes closed, it was hard to see where he was going so he smacked into the house, face first. The second time, he was much more successful.

And sure enough, there was Toby, lying dead on his Pokemon blankets. Sean pondered for a moment, then peeked at his computer screen. The only thing visible was a simple page.

_U beat da intarnets!_

"Well that explains everything," Sean said.


	6. Identity Crisis

Chances are, nothing will be updated until after June. I'm participating in a writing challenge, and I'll be very busy with it.

* * *

**Identity Crisis**

Chris Sharpe would make a nice target, Sean decided. No one really liked the dude, after all, and he didn't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed. Therefore, Chris would (hopefully) make a good meal.

Chris was outside with his telescope when Sean approached the house. "Oogy boogizzle on the fly fo' sho'," he said.

"Huh?" Sean was confused--no, bamboozled. Bamboozled was a much, much better word.

"Doodle oddle yum yum."

Sean gave him a blank look. "What does that mean?"

"I have no idea," Chris admitted. "It's absolutely ludicrous babble that I make up on the spot."

"Oh."

"Care to come inside for a spot of tea?"

"Um, not really...?" But he did anyway.

"I want to make it in the DJ world," Chris explained, while he filled the kettle. "And with that world comes certain expectations. I have to dress a certain way, act a certain way, and speak a certain way. It doesn't matter that I read Shakespeare in my spare time or that I've had published short stories, or that I could ace my English exam if I wanted to. I have to maintain a certain image, or no one takes me seriously."

"Oh my god!" Sean said. "Me too! I mean, I'm a vampire, but no one takes me seriously. I don't know why. Wait--you read Shakespeare in your spare time?"

"Maybe because you don't look the part?" Chris suggested, ignoring Sean's last comment. "It's a matter of making a choice--do you want to be taken seriously, or do you want to be yourself? In an ideal world, you could have both, but our society is far from ideal."

"You're right," Sean said. "That explains it. Thank you!" Chris handed him a cup of tea and Sean took a sip, sticking his baby finger up in the air (after all, you're not supposed to crook it!).

"First off," Chris said, "I don't think a vampire would have perfect etiquette. You need to be rough around the edges man! Googledy izzle bob!"

"Uh, right," Sean said. "I think I know what I have to do." He downed the rest of the tea (and crooked his baby finger!), chugging at it as if it were the same cheap beer he was accustomed to. "Thanks for the tea, and I'd best be on my way--I mean, gotta go."

"Much better," Chris said. "But I suppose you're going to suck my blood first?"

"Nah. That wouldn't be fair of me. I mean, you just helped me."

"That's not a very vampire-y thing to say," Chris commented, then immediately shut his mouth, realising that it could spell his doom. "I mean, you're totally right. Better get going!"

Sean left, but only he knew the truth--the truth he dared not tell poor Chris. He knew that Chris would be dead soon. The only thing he didn't know was how he would die.

Sure enough, he heard a faint scream as he walked away.

"My eye! Woe is me!" And then he quoted some Shakespeare gibberish, and then there was a thump and Sean knew it was over.

"Vampires don't mourn," he reminded himself, but he couldn't stop the one tear from rolling down his cheek--a perfect, crystal-clear sign of respect and grief and stuff.

He headed home and set about his duties, trying to find the perfect costume for a vampire. No, not a costume, he reminded himself, a uniform. Yes, a uniform. That's what it was. Only fake vampires wear costumes.

He rummaged through his closet, and then Ellies, and managed to construct a pretty decent set of attire. With one final look in the mirror, he decided he was ready for the ultimate test--a confrontation with Alex Nunez.

Alex let him in, assuming he was there on official candy-bandit business, but then he took off the overcoat he'd donned so as to obscure the costume (uniform) for maximum impact.

He couldn't find Ellie's eyeliner, so he'd smudged some of her charcoal (intended for art) around his eyes, and over his cheeks in an attempt to make them appear more gaunt. He had succeeded in finding some cheap, bright red lipstick, although it looked as if it was several years old, and covered in fuzz. He'd coated his lips and even drawn a dribble of fake blood down his chin.

Ellie's boots were too small for him, and high-heeled to boot (pun intended) but he'd pulled them on as far as they would go, and stolen a long black skirt.

But the piece de resistance was his fancy cape--an old tattered blanket with a tiny spot of drool from the night before.

He was hurt when Alex died of laughter.


End file.
